Tim Jones: Books in the Trees

  The White Stripes , man, they just come to play.   No set list. Anything can happen. They create, don’t need to fabricate. Re...

  No Tuesday Poem of my own today, but I did contribute a line to The Poets' Birthday , the collaborative Tuesday Poem composed jointly...

  Rapunzel, let down your hair! Each careful tress a mark of grace: two chains of gold to hold your head in place. What a pretty prisone...

  That absolute and unfeigned stillness I can’t get used to even when it’s only the family cat that’s dead hit on the road carried t...

  Fallen Driving through Mandeville. Empty windows, empty houses, a craft shop sprung like fungus from the bones of the dying town. T...

  It's a meat market in here. Why girls as green as grass Should dance to the songs of a man ten times their age Climb on their boyf...

          The first appearance was a pair of tall pants that came all the way from Germany, with two fashionable legs of beige suede stand...

  Note: This is a poem I wrote in response to the Christchurch earthquake of February 22, 2011. I thought it was appropriate to re-post it...

  He put his Steely Dan CDs in a box under the bed bought three pairs of baggy shorts wore his cap backwards learned to swear like Fred...

  Big cats patrol the aisles. At the checkouts, baboons preen and groom while parrots chatter through the speakers. Sloth and sun-bear ...

  Inscription on a 1st century Roman tombstone in Hexham. The wolf and wild boar wintered here where Flavinus' impetuous latin blood...

  It is autumn in the land of appearances. Film sets are being taken down. To the south, the audience diminishes to haze. Out beyond t...

  Exquisite, as if there's pleasure in my mongrel life. Dog of the boulevards, sniffing this way and that, torn between the mundane and...

  Early night hills move to profile, wear bushy velvet skirts with some outcrop warts Coming closer, five feral cows chew old rice ter...

  The new anthology is here. I read through it turning the pages          on and on from its end to its beginning seeking connection ...

  I looked around Ruapehu's apron after the subaltern bellied the rover in a minefield of boulders. Waiting for the NCOs who...

  This week, I'm the editor for the main Tuesday Poem blog , and I have selected "The Force of Things", from the collection G...

  happened to meet fingers extending a welcome household of tired gods the table, drinks then morning. Birds, coffee, the paper aff...

  The pines on the ridge are about to cede their colour to the night. Once more light’s absence will shroud this place. Not even car-...

  1. Puysegur Glint of gold, horizon proclaiming fish: familiar warnings of gale and cloud. He descends to the fishing boats. One ...